


Dangerous Territory

by The_Quartermasters



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Blood, Injury, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4346948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Quartermasters/pseuds/The_Quartermasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lambo endangers the pair on a mission for Vongola and almost gets himself killed, Reborn is upset but has a funny way of showing it. Written November 2007</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Territory

No matter how many times he tried to figure it out, Reborn would never tell him how old he really was. He knew he couldn't be only 15, not with those broad shoulders, and sharp jaw, the eyes, so different now than even ten years ago. When they were only children, it was impossible to tell what Reborn was feeling, his expression perpetually blissful with wide-eyed faux-innocence. And he'd blow Lambo across the room with a strange little smile and unblinking eyes. 

Now his expressions were more readable, even if his intentions remained shrouded in a mystery that only Reborn understood. And his eyes were no longer innocent. Now he allowed pause to have a place in their game of cat and mouse, and instead of pulling his weapon on the tousle-haired boy and firing without a second thought, he waited. 

The barrel of the gun was laid heavy and gentle against Lambo's brow, dead center between his eyes and Reborn still hadn't fired. There was no way to tell if the weapon held any special bullets or plain, straight-to-the-point lead. He shivered only a little. The gun metal was warm against his skin. It had been fired only recently. He could smell the blood on Reborn's shoes. 

"It's going to storm," Lambo said, tasting the words, a failed effort to imbue his voice with threat. But the damp of the cobblestones had already soaked into the fabric at his knees. He wasn't properly grounded and he could already feel the static of the impending thunderstorm approaching. 

The shot was fired, impossibly loud, jarring and deafening but no blackness followed, nor pain, nor death. When Lambo uncovered his head, the bricks beside him were crumbled and smoking, red dust spilling down the wall. "I'm not going to die because you're a coward and a fool," Reborn told him with deadly cold. "Next time, I'll make sure you're no longer a burden to the Vongola family. Get up."

Lambo climbed gratefully to his feet, refusing to meet those eyes. His side throbbed where the Giordano goon's bullet had grazed his ribs only minutes earlier and he knew the cow print shirt under his jacket would be more red than white by the time they'd arrived back at the Vongola base. The wound itself --though likely in need of more than a few stiches-- didn't hurt nearly as much as Reborn's reproach. Especially as he knew it had been deserved. 

It wasn't that he was afraid of fighting. He'd grown up with a gun in his hand and a grenade in his pocket. He wasn't even afraid of getting hurt, exactly. He hated pain, of course, but he was more than used to it after almost 20 years of lightning strikes and Reborn. More than that, he was afraid of messing up. Of not living up to the ring he'd been given and most of all, disappointing the one man who it seemed impossible to avoid disappointing. Reborn was cruel, but the irony was worse.

The walk home was a silent, brooding one even if it didn’t last long. The enemy had all but crept up to their back door -- just another reason that Lambo had no excuse for his error. Without a word, Reborn led the way to one of the hidden entrances that none of the rest of the family was aware of, surprisingly not shaking off his 'partner' when he followed. The corridors were quiet and empty this way and when Lambo started toward his own quarters, Reborn's fingers snatched out, grabbing a handful of rain-damp hair to drag him in the opposite direction. He pushed forcibly the wounded man through the door to the baths, lock snapping angrily shut behind them. Fine fabric tore, shredded and buttons bounced off the tiles when Reborn grabbed the front of Lambo's blazer, ripping it open and away to reveal the deep crimson that spread across his side and chest, soaking the white and hiding wetly in the black. "Idiot cow," Reborn spat with a shake of his head but when he reached again for Lambo's collar, it was with considerably more care, undoing the remaining buttons one by one.

Lambo shivered and shook his head, backing up, pushing petulantly at Reborn's hands. "It's fine," he insisted, "I can take care of it." It wasn't as though, after all, he hadn't had to patch himself up before. He frowned as his eyes dropped to the tile floor and he was never good at hiding his pout, but that didn't mean he had to meet Reborn's eyes and let him see everything that was there. 

"Shut up," Reborn said sharply, only following Lambo's retreat until he was instead advancing on him, backing him into the wall where he pushed him back forcefully. "Of course it's fine. It's barely a flesh wound. You just bleed as much as you cry." He flicked the older man's protesting hands out of his way to finish undoing the buttons to peel the wet shirt away. After the briefest glance that passed as an inspection of the wound, he snorted faintly and turned away to attend to his own clothes which were damp from the sprinkling.

Lambo frowned, that much more off balance because it was only when the words left Reborn's lips that he felt the unshed tears threaten. He scrubbed a damp sleeve across his face and tried to tug the ruined shirt back around his too-thin torso, flinching only a little when he touched the dark stain and only because Reborn wasn't looking just then. The taller man had little patience for expressions of discomfort unless he was the direct result. 

After what felt like a long silence during which Lambo hadn't once lifted his eyes from the darkly speckled granite tiles, the young man finally found his voice, as he hadn't found the courage to leave the room. "You-- you're alright?" he asked tentatively. "Not hurt anywhere?"

Reborn's response was a quiet "Nnh," under his breath. "Take off your clothes," he said with command but also a hint of annoyance as he tugged at his own belt, layers of wet fabric already discarded from his shoulders.

The smaller man dared to raise his eyes, flushed faintly at the sight of the other man, already half undressed, and entirely unconcerned, his back to Lambo. Confident, he thought. Certain that Lambo wouldn't even consider refusing his request. And he didn't. Couldn't really, he told himself. Not when Reborn spoke like that, daring him to argue, as much of a threat unarmed and naked as he ever was with a gun in his hand. 

Reluctantly, Lambo let his torn jacket and ruined shirt slip from his own hunched shoulders, biting his lip as the brush of fabric made the gash in his side start throbbing again. He'd almost forgotten. His slacks too, wet with blood --his and who knew how many someone elses'-- and rain, dropped around his ankles and he stepped gingerly out of his shoes, wincing as he toed off each sock with some difficulty. One hand he held to his ribs, blood still dripping slowly between his fingers as his movements made clotting impossible. Finally he stood in only his boxers, and those were stained too. He hesitated only a moment, tugging them off before Reborn had the chance to chastise him for failing to follow his direction again. 

As caught up in himself as he was, Lambo didn't think much of it when Reborn stepped through the shower door. That is, until he was sprayed with hot water and the younger man stood in the doorway with the shower head, deadpan. "You're slow."

"S-sorry," Lambo hastened to apologize, barely reacting to the wet spray that only further plastered his hair to the sides of his face, sending rivulets of dirt and blood streaming down his cheeks. Reborn would probably still know if he cried. So he didn't say anything else as he stepped up to Reborn, hesitating at the doorway to the shower, waiting for Reborn to either move and let him pass or for him to say something else. 

He could feel Reborn's dark, critical eyes on him, affected by the tiny scowl where a lazy smile years ago would have been. And then a heavy hand came down on the back of Lambo's neck, dragging him into the room that was starting to steam a little with the shower flow and the running bath. "Such a mess," Reborn chided, disgusted as he held the water stream over his head, hot water running through his hair and over his face, washing away the mire. And then when the water was removed and Lambo was wiping it away from his eyes, he heard the shower head being replaced, figuring that Reborn was tending to his own bathing. But then suddenly, forcefully the other's mouth was on his, crushed to his and hands tangled roughly in his wet hair as Reborn instantly pushed his way between surprised lips.

It wasn't that he was caught entirely off guard, but the sound that slipped from his lips to Reborn's came unbidden and more needy than he'd have liked. His first thought was to be surprised that Reborn would want to see his face at all after his fuck up, until the taller man's teeth found and bit Lambo's lip, the taste of copper spilling onto his tongue. This wasn't a reward, Lambo reminded himself of what he'd already, of course, known and Reborn's rough handling hit that point home. He was angry. And rightly so. 

"Idiot cow," Reborn growled between hard kisses, catching him again against the wall, pulling on his hair to guide him. He lapped deep and hard into Lambo's mouth, forcing his chin to tilt, his lips to part wide. "How did I end up partnered with this..." A gusting, frustrated sound and teeth bit at the slender man's exposed throat.

"A-ah!" was the most intelligent response Lambo could bring himself to offer, already shaking under Reborn's touch, under the strain of holding himself upright when his legs were rapidly losing the ability to hold his weight. Throwing out caution, he lifted both arms, circled Reborn's shoulders, clung lightly at first then more tightly as the other's mouth sought and found his pulse. "F-forgive me," he breathed.

"I refuse," Reborn hissed, biting at a flushed earlobe before his tongue was licking, hot and wet into it. "Only I can bring you harm," he breathed, hands pressing against Lambo's chest, pushing him tighter against the wall. "Don't forget that..." Fingers pinched at a nipple, tweaked and rubbed at it with sudden ferocity as he sucked behind an ear, dark, wet hair sticking to his face.

"Y-yes!" Lambo agreed, breath a choked gasp as Reborn abused his chest; there wasn't anything else he could do. "I won't. F-forget. I won't." Fingers clutched harder, buried into the unruly black of Reborn's damp hair, the polished granite almost unbearably cold beside the heat of his body. It was almost enough to make him forget his wound, but then Reborn shoved him harder, and when his head cracked against the wall, the sudden pain made him jerk in shock, his ribs throbbing in protest. "Ow..."

Reborn snorted quietly, derisively with little regard for the other's comfort. But with the slighter man sagging against the damp wall, when Reborn dropped to one knee he could just reach -- and suddenly his touch was strangely gentle, wide hands sliding over pale skin and he tilted his head up to lap lightly at the faintly trickling blood until his tongue traced the edge of the wound.

"Ah..." Lambo shivered, wide-eyed as he watched Reborn's tongue smooth across his skin, almost forgetting the pain of torn flesh under the influence of such pleasant sensation. One hand dropped quickly between his legs, trying to hide the reaction that Reborn's attention had already begun to inspire, uncertain whether the other man would be annoyed at his lack of self control. "I-it's okay," he mumbled, swallowing around his suddenly dry throat. "You don't have to..."

Behind his lips, Reborn ran his tongue over his teeth, faintly coppery with the other's diluted blood. He glanced up at Lambo with an unimpressed expression before he stood again, grabbing at his chin to look into his face with sharp eyes. "I suppose you think this is for your benefit," he said tonelessly.

The action startled him, but his eyes went from wide to narrowed quickly, his pout taking on the edge of anger. "No," he argued, petulant. "I don't... think that." He tried to push the taller man away, both fists pressed tight against Reborn's bare chest. "It's just... I know I messed up so... you don't have to-- you know..."

"I'll do whatever I please," Reborn replied snappishly, perhaps showing more emotion than intended. But he covered it quickly when he snatched up Lambo's mouth with his own again, hands closing on the other's slim wrists tightly. When Lambo pulled, he jerked him forward, only kissing him harder, sucking mercilessly at his lower lip and punctuating with a sharp bite.

Lambo wasn't sure if the blood he tasted was from Reborn's rough treatment or the blood he'd already had in his mouth, but whatever the source, the flavor was startling. He continued to struggle, failing to sense that his thrashing only further entangled him in Reborn's hold. 

"Re-- born..." he moaned into the other's mouth, thoroughly trapped and finally realizing that this was, perhaps, less about punishment or reward and more about the assertion of power. And in this moment, his own power amounted to very little. "Please..." 

"Fickle cow," Reborn murmured against Lambo's lips. His own mouth pursed a little as a hand slid over the other's hip to find the erection he knew was there without looking. With no preamble, long fingers wrapped around him, thumbing lightly at his head. "Brushed with death and five minutes later, you're aroused."

Lambo blushed hard, thoroughly shamed by having this fact not only pointed out, but, quite literally, rubbed in. "...Jerk," he breathed, torn between further struggle and giving in to the touch that, though it came from that man, was, nonetheless exceptional, warm, perfect. Like it was every time.

"What was that?" Reborn murmured as he started to stroke, long and hard and unforgiving, leaving no room for argument. Lambo didn't have to give in, he had already been taken. And to punctuate this, lips and teeth closed on his neck, sucking angry marks into place.

"A-ah!" Lambo cried in protest, fingers now clutching hard at Reborn's shoulders but not pushing away. "I s-said," he gasped, finding it increasingly difficult to form words. "Y-you're a big jerk."

"Che," Reborn scoffed quietly against Lambo's throat, nipping once more before he was letting go and instead grabbing for a fistful of wavy ebony. He pulled forcefully, kicking at an ankle so that he stumbled, only saving him from savagely injuring his knees by the hold in his hair. "Your opinion isn't worth much," he said easily to the young man now on his knees before him. And in spite of his disparaging remarks, Reborn himself was in no chaster a state than his partner.

Lambo winced, his arms reaching out to grab hold of Reborn's waist, gasping as the fall jarred his ribs and holding tight in some sort of backward survival instinct. There was nothing safe about Reborn, after all, least of all clinging so tightly to his hips. "Ow-ow..." he pouted, eyes squeezed shut against the pain in his scalp. "Let go..."

The hold on Lambo's hair eased slightly but Reborn peered down at him no more gently. "It's going to hurt a lot more if you don't get it ready," he warned.

A small, quiet pause followed Reborn's words and finally, Lambo opened his eyes, flushing deeply when he found himself a breath away from the other man's sizable erection. His stomach gave a little flip and his own arousal ached at the sight. Despite his complaints and his embarrassment --and maybe because of the guilt over his earlier mistake--, Lambo failed to voice any further argument. Instead he leaned forward, stretching his neck out in just the way that he suspected Reborn might like, and let his eyes flutter shut once more. He touched lightly at first, just his breath, his lips, here and there and then his tongue, tracing expert lines from base to tip, lingering just a moment longer at the soft, flushed crown, waiting, hoping for any response from the stoic younger man. 

Reborn said nothing though he watched, not completely tilting his chin down. And though his expression appeared almost disapproving, the hand that slid from Lambo's hair was surprisingly gentle, soft even as fingers trailed down his jaw.

Lambo didn't dare stop, not even to revel in that touch that made his stomach twist in funny ways that had almost nothing to do with the arousal settled heavily between his thighs. So he opened his mouth a little wider and knelt upright a little straighter and took him in, a little at first and then deeper, brow knit tight, determined. Lambo couldn't say exactly what it was he felt he had to prove to Reborn, but somehow this seemed the best way to do it.

The younger man's breathing slowed, lips tightening just a little as his fingers moved again and were regrettably soft as they slid back to Lambo's hair. Long and light, they raked through his damp locks, moving it from his flushed cheeks where it clung. He would never voice just how good Lambo was at this or how tantalizing he appeared with full lips and tears still shining in his eyes.

It was impossible to quiet the small, soft noises that each touch, each slow stroke elicited from Lambo's throat. He never paused in his attentions, tongue searching for flavor, for the taste of slick salty musk, for the sign that would mean he was doing well. One hand left its place at Reborn's hip, circling his arousal, squeezing faintly, slowly matching the motions of Lambo's mouth, stroking at the heated skin that Lambo's lips could not quite reach. 

"Hmm..." Reborn murmured, the sound on a sigh as his light fingers hinted, guided just barely. He didn't much need to -- this was one of the few things that Lambo had any particular talent for. And it was easy to tell himself that it was why he came back to this place. With as hot and wanton as the creature on its knees before him was. And as tempting as it was to let that skilled mouth coax him to climax in its hold, Reborn wanted to feel his frailty, wanted to see the other man on the verge of breaking. But his hand wasn't as rough as he'd intended as he pulled Lambo away from his cock -- when he should have thrown him against the wall, an arm instead snaked tight around the slighter one's chest, keeping him close. "Such a brat..." he hissed in an ear while two fingers, liberally slickened with saliva, worked their way into him with no other warning.

Disoriented to be suddenly facing the wall, mouth so suddenly empty, Lambo couldn't help the shiver that crossed his shoulders, despite Reborn's hot breath. And when the other man touched him there so daringly, without hesitation or shame or concern, Lambo couldn't help the moan that was audible even from hastily bitten lips. 

There was a certain urgency that started to appear in Reborn's actions, less careless and more hurried as he added a third finger, hastily coaxing him into an acceptance that he already knew was there. And by the time he had Lambo pressed against the wall, he was panting softly at the back of the smaller man's neck as he slid inside with a slowness that was excruciating for both of them.

Lambo wanted to say something, but if he expressed pleasure, Reborn would think him selfish and if he expressed displeasure, Reborn would either chastise him for complaining or simply stop and send him away. He didn't want to take that risk. So Lambo's lower lip remained firmly pinched between his teeth and the sting of Reborn's entry made him forget his body's pain.   
A low, quiet grunt made its way to his ears though, more sign of pleasure than he would have expected from Reborn, even as he hilted himself completely and repeated the action. "Lambo..." Reborn's voice growled as though he were angry but then he was kissing, sucking at the other's neck while a hand braced on his hip and arm wrapped around his chest. 

"Re-reborn?" Lambo was hesitant in his reply, and the name came out quietly, a whine barely above a murmur. But still he pressed back against and around the other man, inviting him further, firmer, gasping quietly with each deep thrust. "Unh..." he groaned, pressed his cheek to the cool tiles, tried not to notice how Reborn's hold on him made it difficult to draw breath. Never mind that the other man was being uncharacteristically gentle. 

There were no words though to reply and Reborn answered with a bite to the juncture of neck and shoulder, teeth sinking deep enough to bruise, even as he sank slow and deep again. Lambo was just right, just tight enough not to be uncomfortable and pliant, responsive -- one could almost forget that he was stupid and immature when he was bending just so, only begging to be touched deeper. Reborn's tongue lapped roughly at the circle of teeth he'd left in Lambo's shoulder while hands spread him further, grinding him against the wall.

"A-ah!" Punishment or reward, Reborn knew every way to touch him, every way to make him shake just so, and even if the taller man was angry with him, Lambo couldn't help the flush of pleasure, most physical and emotional, as Reborn moved inside him, tongue kissing the mark he'd made. 

Persistent fingers pinched roughly at a nipple while Reborn's tongue lapped behind his ear, wide and hot. "You're tight today," he murmured, voice husky. A faster thrust seemed to test his point but caused his breath to hitch just the slightest. "Relax, stupid..." His wandering hand groped down the front of Lambo's body until his fingers were curling around his arousal, giving him a squeeze as he sank deep again. He didn't stroke though, only held him so that the push of his own hips moved Lambo's cock in his grip, though fingers teased across his tip.

With that touch so tight and generous and unlike Reborn's usual allowances, Lambo couldn't help but cry out. It took only a few breaths, a few more thrusts and pulls before Lambo was able to find Reborn's rhythm, to relax into it, deep moans slipping half-muffled from bitten lips. 

He was definitely lightheaded now, the euphoria of the evening's high tension and danger fading into the warmth of the room and the pleasure of Reborn's body bent into his. He braced his arms more steadily against the wall, willed his shaky legs to hold his weight just a little longer. Reborn was skilled, and he felt the end coming far too soon. "R-reborn..."

Reborn refused to be impressed with the way that Lambo gathered his strength, moving with him, holding up against him while accepting him completely. And it certainly wasn't that he was pleased or rewarding when his fingers curled tighter around Lambo's length, stroking him in earnest as his efforts redoubled, spurred by the other's actions. He pressed forward until Lambo's cheek was pressed against the damp wall, licking sweat and condensation from the cheek that faced him. His breath came a little quicker now, though he said nothing further, the only sounds the hiss of the shower and Lambo's voice and the slick sounds of skin on skin. 

Reborn's tongue on his skin and hand on his cock and the way he moved inside him, taking him over completely-- all of it was overwhelming, and he panted heavily, shaking in Reborn's hold, so near release, but determined not to so selfishly take before Reborn had his own pleasure. 

His partner, however, had no such inhibitions or concerns and suddenly both strong hands were on Lambo's hips, holding him tightly in place as Reborn pounded into him. His head dropped, forehead against Lambo's shoulder, teeth tightly clenched and muffling quiet grunts as he tensed further and further with every perfect thrust, with the way that Lambo's body accepted him so completely. And with the quietest, choked sound and fingers clenching to bruise on narrow hips, he came hard, hilted completely to make sure that the other felt it.

It was all that Lambo had been waiting for, and he followed quickly despite the sudden, near-painful loss of Reborn's hand on him. It hardly mattered, when the other man hit so deep, that place that Lambo could never quite reach on his own, and Reborn so thoroughly claimed as his. His name was a choked cry on Lambo's tongue and the tiles were painted with his pleasure, thick translucent white mingling with the blood that neither man had seemed to notice. 

It was at that moment that Lambo's legs finally gave out, his weight pulling him down, the sudden separation from Reborn painful for both, but Lambo's eyes were closed even before his knees hit the slick tiles. 

It was only Reborn's reflexes that kept Lambo from cracking his skull on the floor, limp in the other man's grip when Reborn caught him. It was then that he noticed the blood that had trickled over his fingers, that colored the floor pink as it mixed with the shower water. Still breathing a little hard, he frowned as he looked over the unconscious man in his arms whose cheeks and lips were still flushed from sex. How could he possibly be this bothersome...?

When Reborn kicked open the bathroom door, it slammed against the wall, followed by a startled shriek from the hallway. 

Against the opposite wall, Tsuna stared at the rather unsettling sight -- Reborn, damp and hastily dressed with Lambo limp in his arms with a towel tied around his waist. Lambo was still dripping wet with blood trickling across his chest to stain the sleeves on the arms that held him. There were also a few rather angry marks around his neck and shoulders that were difficult not to notice. A shadow seemed to fall over Reborn's eyes as they fell on his charge, as though challenging him to say anything. But the Tenth said nothing, just stared with eyes like saucers.

"Send Bianchi to the infirmary," Reborn snapped and turned down the hall without another word.

 

When Lambo woke, it was to a painfully white room, the quiet sounds of medical equipment and the rustle of fabric. When he turned his head, he found the woman they called "Poison Scorpion" sitting by the bed, legs crossed at the knee, flipping disinterestedly through a cooking magazine. His throat felt dry, but he swallowed and spoke. "Bianchi?" The nervous timbre was audible in his voice. 

Bianchi's eyes turned up on him and brows lifted almost imperceptibly. Her full lips were in a thin line. "You're awake." 

A pause and a tiny, bone-chilling smile. "Are you hungry?"

Lambo's eyes widened perceptibly and he shifted in his pillow, the closest he could get to backing up. "N-no," he stuttered, then quickly added. "Th-thank you though!"

"Hmm," Bianchi replied with a bittersweet, poison smile. "Reborn dropped you off here a few hours ago. You lost a good deal of blood. Though not enough to warrant all this."

"S-sorry," Lambo cringed, then frowned at himself, at his own behavior. What had happened to the tough little kid he used to be? A cry-baby, maybe, but not a coward. He let his gaze lift from the wrinkled bed sheets to Bianchi's saccharine expression, swallowed his nervousness. He wouldn't be ashamed, not of this, not of... 

"I love him, you know." Lambo almost managed to keep the waver from his voice.

The woman's fake smile faded quickly as though she were startled. But then she replied with ease, "He dropped you off and left you with me. That's how much he cares about you."

Lambo frowned. He caught the slight emphasis on 'with me' and thought he understood what she was implying. And though he bit at his lip, he wouldn't be deterred. "You wouldn't do anything that might make him unhappy," Lambo's words bespoke a confidence that he was still struggling   
to muster. "He-- He knew that." 

Bianchi scoffed, something starting to burn faintly in her eyes. Everyone who knew Bianchi knew that love was not the battlefield that you wanted to cross her on. But he did have a point. "From the looks of you, he doesn't treat you any better than my poison cooking would," she pointed out loftily.

Lambo had no control of the flush that bloomed across his cheeks, but still he furrowed his brow angrily. "Y-you wouldn't understand."

"I understand perfectly," Bianchi said, almost calmly, though the heat that threatened behind her words was becoming apparent. She stood, curling her magazine into a roll that manicured fingers clutched at. "I understand that you're a little slut and you seduced him. Don't kid yourself -- you think Reborn's gay? Don't make me laugh!"

Lambo ignored the ache in his ribs when he sat up too quickly, clutching the sheets and willing the tears not to come. "Sh-shut up! It's not like that!" he cried out, eyes stinging. "I didn't-- it wasn't--"

"I don't know what *your* love life is like but in my book, fucking someone until they're bloody and unconscious isn't *love*," Bianchi snapped back, eyes ablaze.

Bianchi's words hurt like a physical blow, and Lambo swore quietly as the tears he'd been trying so hard to hold back spilled freely. "N-no... he just-- " He fell silent, unsure anymore what to say. He didn't want to believe the things Bianchi was saying, but did he really have any proof otherwise? "He-- he didn't mean to--" 

"Bianchi," came a dark, deep voice from behind the curtain that shielded Lambo's bed from the rest of his bed. The fabric was lightly swept aside and Bianchi's catty anger melted away, her cheeks glowing a bit as Reborn revealed himself. The color may have been delight, may have been embarrassment.

"Reborn!" she said, trying to force a light laugh into her voice. 

The man said nothing else, only placed an arm around Bianchi's shoulders and led her from the room. The barest, briefest glance was tossed over his shoulder at the bedridden Lambo.

And Lambo caught hold of that glance desperately, searching for something, anything in Reborn's dark eyes before he looked away again and was gone. 

Crying in front of someone was awful, but crying alone was worse and he cursed his shaking shoulders and the tears that dripped from the end of his nose to wet the sheets between his fists. She wasn't right, she couldn't be... not when Lambo could so vividly remember Reborn's hands on him, more gentle that he ever was with anything else.

But then again, what did he know, really? Did he know anything about Reborn's other lovers? What he had been for them? He tried not to think of Bianchi, laid out beneath him, Reborn's touch sweet and loving... no! He couldn't bear it. He couldn't stay in this bed and wait and cry like the coward everyone thought he was. 

He was only a little tangled in the sheets and only stumbled a little when he climbed out of bed, naked and bandaged from the waist up, plain cotton pajamas clothing his legs. Something crashed to floor behind him, but he didn't stop to look, his only goal to reach the door and the man who'd left through it. 

"REBORN!"

When he threw the curtain aside, Reborn looked at him with narrowed, incredulous eyes as he shut the door behind Bianchi, having kept quiet a few exchanged words. "What?" he said, frowning at Lambo as he crossed the room again.

Lambo swallowed hard and shrank back, startled to find the other man still standing there. "I--I...." He dropped his gaze to the floor, struggled to find his courage, finally lifting his eyes before Reborn got so fed up that he simply left. "W-were you listening?"

Reborn just shrugged and stepped forward, effectively shooing Lambo back without lifting a hand to do so. "You're noisy," he told the other. He sighed at the sight of the IV stand that he'd knocked over. Thankfully he hadn't managed to rip out his IV, though Reborn inspected the equipment for damage as he righted it.

"I--" he'd almost apologized, but bit his tongue before he let the word 'sorry' fall from his lips. "I can't help it. Not when you--"

"When I what?" Reborn demanded, a little harshly, shooting a look at Lambo. "Get back in bed, you idiot."

Lambo backed up until his thighs touched the mattress, but he didn't climb back into the bed, and his eyes caught Reborn's, held them. "I meant it," he breathed. "What I said to her." His mouth turned in a pout, but his eyes, still red from crying, flashed something like anger. "And I-- I don't care what she thinks about me."

"Hm?" Reborn lifted a brow and raised a hand to push against Lambo's chest, forcing him back until he couldn't resist at least sitting. "I only heard the end," he said disdainfully. "Cat-fighting," he snorted. "Pathetic."

Lambo blushed, ashamed despite himself. "She doesn't understand. How I feel. She thinks-- "

"I don't care," Reborn interrupted, pressing knuckle to his own temple. "I don't care what she thinks and neither should you. So shut up and get some more rest before I let you rest in a grave."

Lambo fell silent, flush deepening as he obediently slid under the sheets and lay back down, his eyes never quite leaving Reborn's profile. There was a long silence while Lambo settled and he wondered that Reborn hadn't yet left. Still, he couldn't help but feel a small warmth at the other man's words, never mind the annoyance that had colored his voice. "Reborn... " he finally murmured, looking up at the younger man still standing there. "I-- I'll be more careful next time."

"Hnn," came Reborn's voice in way of reply. He had nothing else to say that hadn't already been said. So he sat down in the chair that Bianchi had vacated, tipped his hat over his eyes and crossed his arms as he sank into a slouch, instantly asleep.

Lambo smiled, tired but not quite willing to close his eyes just yet. Reborn seemed to be frowning, even in sleep, and Lambo couldn't bring himself to look away, even when the heat in his cheeks made him feel dizzy.

"You're a big jerk," he whispered, but in the quiet room with noone else around, it sounded more like 'I love you'.


End file.
